Papers and Pilots
by Keithan
Summary: Heero knew Quatre didn't wrap people around his little finger - he gets them to do the wrapping themselves, before they do the dancing on his palm next. 1x4


**Title:** _Papers and Pilots  
_**Author:** Keithan  
**Disclaimers:** Gundam Wing and its characters belong to their respective owners.  
**Rating:** G  
**Series: **One-shot (yes, really. _Not part of Spire timeline_), post-EW  
**Pairings:** 1x4/4x1 (you don't know how absolutely _delighted_ I am to write "Pairings" instead of Characters and to have an "x" between 1 and 4)  
**Summary: **Heero knew Quatre didn't wrap people around his little finger–he gets them to do the wrapping themselves, before they do the dancing on his palm next.  
**Notes:** I may not have a usual or fixed style, but this is definitely new for me. More of just fun and light writing than what I'm used to (I do have to write those sooner or later, might as well stretch my comfort zone now). I honestly don't know where this came from (the date created of the document was way back in 2008). I remember starting this but I don't know _why_ and _how_ it came about and when I stumbled upon it now, it seemed almost complete. But well, sat with it for a few hours and 500 words became a little over 1k so here. Hopefully I'll get used to these random scribbles with practice.

**Papers and Pilots  
**_by Keithan_

Heero looked down at the stray paper on the carpeted floor, just lying in front of his socked feet. Stray papers didn't belong in Quatre's study (just as random wires and jumpers didn't belong in Wing Zero's circuit boards). Everything there was arranged in file cabinets and drawers, and if papers had to be out, they were arranged in organized piles. Random, stray papers just didn't belong, not in his study, not in his apartment.

Quatre's apartment was _neat_ (and if he had any doubts on Quatre's order of doing things, he only had to remember Wing Zero's blueprints and the meticulous way it had been built). It was wide and spacious and just so _perfect_ that all furniture seemed to be well thought of and every piece of accessory seemed to belong (not that he found this disagreeable). It was the ideal (rich) bachelor's pad–half of the rooftop, with the other half a wide veranda (with a small garden, coffee table set, and a porch swing–yes, _a porch swing_), nothing too fancy but surely nothing cheap either. Everything was so simple, yet elegant, but most of all, everything was in order. Every time he visited Quatre's apartment, he had yet to see something out of place (not that he claimed to be an expert of Quatre's apartment, at least not yet).

He frowned, and placed a period on the stray thought before it could go any further.

Instead, he lowered himself down and balanced his weight on the balls of his feet to inspect the paper. He knew he was looking at it as if it were a threat, with just the right amount of wariness at something that simply just didn't belong (he'd acted the same when Duo had inserted inconspicuous but useless boards in his mobile suit in revenge for stealing some of Deathscythe's parts once). But before he could even reach out to check what it was, a short laugh from behind stopped him, followed by a, "It's just paper, Heero."

It was Quatre, but Heero didn't stand from his position, didn't look back to see the blonde lean against the doorway and cross his arms across his chest, didn't turn to see the amused look he was giving his crouched form. Heero didn't have to (he knew, even the way Quatre's head would be tilted, and the way his legs were crossed). He glared at the paper, instead.

"Quatre, it's on the floor," he said, as if that explained enough.

He expected the laugh, expected the light footsteps coming his way, expected the blonde sinking on the floor beside him. He didn't expect the head on his shoulder though (but that was because he expected an arm around him instead).

He shifted his glance, sliding it to the head on his shoulder, and he tilted his own head just enough to feel the soft strands of golden hair tickle his cheek and nose (he found that he liked the head on his shoulder better than the arm). "Why is it on the floor?" he asked. But inhaling in the distinct scent of Quatre's shampoo, he realized he didn't really care.

"Believe it or not, Heero, I don't know the state of every paper or post-it found in this study," Quatre answered and his voice was soft enough for Heero to tell that he was just getting comfortable in his position (if he didn't know better, he would never have suspected Quatre to be a Preventer, much more a Gundam pilot when the other was being his carefree self). If Quatre hadn't closed his eyes yet, Heero knew he'd do it soon.

He allowed a sigh to escape his lips. "We're on the floor of your study, Quatre," he said, knowing that it wasn't enough to stop Quatre (as if anyone could stop Quatre if he had set his mind on something) from parking himself there, on Heero's shoulder and on his study room's floor. "Are you moving any time soon, or am I to sit down as well?"

"I like it here." There was a smile in Quatre's voice, and Heero allowed a soft snort of amusement to escape his lips.

He shook his head as he said, "Fine," before he circled his arm around Quatre's shoulders to support him as he shifted to sit down. As soon as he was settled on the floor, Quatre's head found his shoulder again. "You do realize that we're in the middle of your study." He felt the shrug more than he saw it. "What happened to the movie plans?"

"Still an option. We can move if you want," Quatre said, and Heero very nearly rolled his eyes (the only Gundam strategist he knew didn't exactly give options when he didn't want to–he gave the _illusion_ of having options when there was really only one). "So what is it?"

"What is what?" (He called it tactical manipulation, how Quatre _didn't_ wrap people around his little finger but how he got them to do the _wrapping _themselves, before they do the _dancing_ on his palm next.)

"The paper, Heero," Quatre said, his voice patiently amused. "What is it?"

_Oh. _Heero looked down at the paper again. "It's" he started, before realizing he hadn't even checked it yet (and realizing he had been doing the wrapping, all right). "I don't know." He reached out and turned the page up. "It's blank."

"Oh," Quatre said. He lifted his head up slightly. "Does it mean we have to move now?"

Before Quatre could shift away, Heero found himself saying, "It's fine," before settling his arm around Quatre's shoulders again (and now he was pretty sure he was doing the dancing as well). He didn't have to look to know that Quatre was smiling, but he turned his head just so. He was _not_ burying his nose in the blond hair. He merely wanted to find a comfortable position. "Maybe later."

"And the movie plans?" (Tactician, strategist, master manipulator.)

"Still an option," he said (more wrapping and dancing, and he just _knew _he'd be an expert soon, but he wasn't complaining).

Heero heard the soft laugh, but he thought he felt it more through the gentle shaking of Quatre beside him (yes, the pilots of Wing Zero weren't ones for complaining). He felt an answering smile tug at his lips.

He glanced at the paper, lying innocently in front of them (it was too farfetched to think Quatre placed it there on purpose–after all, Quatre could manipulate situations just as easily). He thought then that maybe a little disorder once in a while wouldn't be so bad.

(In any case, two ex-Gundam pilots didn't belong on the floor of Quatre's study either.)

**end  
**13.06.09

Again, not part of Spire. Please bear with me as I stretch my writing comfort zones. But would you look at that. Two posts in less than two days, and I'm expecting to have another one in the coming week. Life is good. :)


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